


You Look Wonderful Tonight

by beestill



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Modern Era, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beestill/pseuds/beestill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought you wanted to play with the record player, not bash my taste in music.”<br/>“I do want to play with it,” She pouts her lips in way that Jon can feel deep in his chest. Her hair is tangled and messy, but she’s the only one in the room that thinks of it like that. Jon can’t do anything but wonder if he’s ever seen her look so beautiful before. “But I can’t find anything to play on it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look Wonderful Tonight

Her big “Pink Sands” candle is the only light in the room.

There’s a handful of them, from Yankee to Bath & Body Works, spread throughout Jon’s apartment. He doesn’t care that Pyp and Grenn tease him about the girly smells of it all, that they call him whipped, that they ask if he’s got a secret fetish and Sansa is taking the blame. He likes them because she likes them. After she had first step foot in his apartment and told him it smelt like old pizza, she’d brought around a candle. Candles are for more than the smell, she tells him every time she brings another to his place, they’re also for relaxing and being happy. Now there’s “Watermelon Lemonade” in the kitchen, “Sea Island Cotton” in the bedroom, and “Garden Sweet Pea” in the bathroom.

He lights them when she’s there and when she’s not. They remind him of her, especially the dancing flame that seems to represent her in spirit and body.

She’s wearing one of his shirts—the one that has the three holes in the neck and has been washed so many times, it’s softer than silk. He watches her from the couch, one arm behind his head, while she flips through his tattered collection of vinyl records. Sansa makes a face at every other one; she doesn’t know more than three artists in there. They’re all older than she is.

Sansa doesn’t like Jon’s music, it’s much too heavy for her with the half-screamed words and loud guitar solos. She likes the simple songs, the ones that are happy and bright.

“The only thing you have from this generation are The Black Keys.” She grumbles.

“I thought you wanted to play with the record player, not bash my taste in music.”

“I do want to play with it,” She pouts her lips in way that Jon can feel deep in his chest. Her hair is tangled and messy, but she’s the only one in the room that thinks of it like that. Jon can’t do anything but wonder if he’s ever seen her look so beautiful before. “But I can’t find anything to play on it.”

He pushes himself from the leather couch with a sigh. Jon walks to Sansa, his sweats noticeably low on his hips, and flips through the vinyl records. He tugs out two and holds them behind his back, “Left or right?” He asks.

“How am I supposed to pick if I don’t know what they are?”

“It’s a game, Sansa. Just pick one.” He tells her. She moves her mouth, side to side, in thought.

“Left,” She chooses. “Play left.”

He tugs the record from the sleeve and places it on the platter. He had a feeling she’d pick the _Fleetwood Mac_ album. If she gives it a try, he knows she’ll be in love with Stevie Nicks.  Sansa perches an impatient hand on her hip while Jon places the needle carefully on a groove and it begins to spin. As the music pours from the speakers, Jon is certain of how right he is.

It’s a soft song, but still upbeat enough to feel it in her hips. She moves to the song seriously until a goofy smile forms on her lips and bubbly laugh escapes her mouth. Jon stares at her with an amused look on his face. She’s twirling in circles and wiggling her hips to song, giving him a good view of her panties with every beat of the drum.

Sansa reaches out to him, “Dance with me.”

“I can’t.” She’s still looking at him, waiting for Jon to take her hand. He scrunches in nose in distaste, “This isn’t a good dancing song.”

“Every song is a good dancing song.” She rolls her eyes at his lame excuse before pulling at his hand. But he doesn’t budge from his spot. “Pick out a song, then, a good dancing song.”

Jon sighs in defeat and flips through the albums before deciding on one. He’s got a better chance fixing the national debt than trying to beat Sansa in this stubborn contest. She will win, she always wins, whether he gives in or not. When the song hums quietly, he pushes the coffee table out of the way.

Sansa grabs his calloused hand in her own as he wraps an arm around her waist. They move slowly together, trying to find an even rhythm within the music. He’s never slow danced before, dancing wasn’t for him, but if she asked him to, Jon would slow dance through hell to have her in his arms like this. He’s so close to her that he wonders if she can feel his heart racing, if the smell of his hair leaves her as weak in the knees as hers does to him.

The song is beautiful one; he’d picked it out specifically. It’s tender melody and words describe every feeling he’s ever had about her, about how much he loves her, about how breathtaking he finds her in dim light of the candle. They spin in circles in the dark room, no sounds filling the room other than the music and their soft breathing.

Sansa is caught off guard when Jon dips her, pressing a gentle kiss to her throat. He pulls her back to his chest and holds her tighter than before. His hands are sweaty in hers but he doesn’t care to let go. He’d let them fall from his arms before he’d do that. She wraps her arms around his neck as he moves his to her hips and lays her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat sing to her rather than the music. Jon leans against her head and whispers the lyrics that affect him the most. He’s not a singer, not talented in the least, but Sansa has never heard something so wonderful when he sings to her, “ _You just don’t realize how much I love you._ ”

Sansa realizes it more than he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton.


End file.
